Page 20 of Fateful Exposure

"Let it go, Ashton."

"Selma!" I thundered.

She suddenly swung to face me; her face contorted into a twist of rage. "Fine! It's yours, yes. But that doesn't make you its father."

I didn't fail to notice that she had put some distance between us. "Like hell it doesn't."

My heart was racing so fast I felt it in my fucking neck. It was getting hard to breathe. I tried to practice my ujjayi pranayama, but all that did was constrict my throat further. All the yoga lessons I'd taken over the years suddenly deserted me when I needed them the most. My instructor reiterated that breathing could bring power and focus into the body if one knows how to channel all that energy. While it seemed to work for the panic attacks I'd had as a teenager, they proved useless when put up against a surprise pregnancy announcement.

"Ashton, I don't expect you to play the role of a father, especially when it's so abrupt," she said.

I didn't realize that Selma had closed the distance between us and was now in front of me, looking at me with faux concern.

It was worth mentioning that I knew it was a facade because she blinked in only one eye as she said the words.

"So, what do you expect? For me to walk away from my child?" I fixed her a scorching glare. "You would love that, wouldn't you?"

Her face straightened. "So fucking what? I have a right to dictate who stays in my child's life."

I chuckled deviously. "I suggest you look up the word 'right.’ You don't seem to understand what it means."

Selma stared at me for what felt like an hour, looking flustered. A few stray strands of hair were sticking out of the messy bun piled up on her head, and a hue of pink spread from her neck to hercheeks. There was no makeup on her face today, and I realized it was the first time I'd seen her without it. Her chest was heaving with furious breaths, exposing the generous swell of her breasts through the button that had come undone.

As if she had planned it, my body instantly reacted to her. I gritted my teeth, willing my fucking cock to behave itself, and read the room.

Her office suddenly became hot. I hated this…reaction I had to her—this stupid attraction to her that I couldn't deny. Selma was a striking woman, probably the most enticing woman I'd ever met. And that was saying something because, for the past four years, I'd worked with models and celebrities of all shapes and sizes.

But none was as enchanting as Selma. None made my blood boil in anger and awakened the beast inside me at the same time.

I met her gaze and was almost brought to my knees by the depths of the emotions swirling in her emerald eyes—fear, trepidation, and arousal mixed into one. Whatever was between us, she felt it, too. I could tell.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers without thinking about it. She stiffened against me, her body hard as a rock. A beat passed, then another, as I waited for the push or slap that I knew was brewing. But five beats passed—again, I was counting because with Selma, you never knew—and no force connected with my body.

So, I deepened the kiss, prying her stiff lips open with my tongue. She opened up after a few strokes, and when I shoved it roughly into her mouth, she melted against me.

Encouraged by her reaction, I slid my hands down her skirt to cup her ass, pressing her flush against my body. My erection ground against her lower abdomen, and she moaned into my mouth, deepening the kiss.

The heated tension from our argument a few minutes ago evaporated, and all that was left was liquid fire.

Selma was the one who broke the kiss. "Ashton, we can't," she moaned softly in protest, her hands fisting the lapels of my shirt.

"Why not?" I panted, my lips blazing a trail up her cheek to kiss her forehead. "You want it.” Then I pressed her tightly against my hardened cock. "And I'm pretty sure you can feel how much I want it, too."

She groaned against my lips, circling her waist against my arousal, causing me to grunt in pleasure.

When I captured her mouth in another deep kiss, she didn't protest, only grabbed my shirt harder. God, I wanted this woman. Once was not enough; it would never be enough. Ever since that night, she'd been like a drug. My unique addiction. Everything about her drove me crazy, both with need and pure insanity. The way she spoke, that polite, sophisticated way of making people feel small, her green eyes, her lush lips, theenticing slope of her neck that made me want to kiss it, even her brain. Her smart, organized brain.

Everything was a fucking turn-on, as well as a turn-off.

It was a conundrum, my attraction to her. I hated her guts, but at the same time, I liked that she had a backbone. She sometimes looked at me like I was shit beneath her shoes, but other times, very few times, her gaze was gentle, sultry, knowing.

God help me, I tried to fight it. I'd told myself all sorts of bullshit about how she was the resident witch with a beautiful face and a blackened heart and, if not for Maria, wouldn’t even breathe the same air as me. But my body—and my cock— seemed to think otherwise.

Keeping one hand firm on her ass, kneading, and pressing, I trailed my other hand to her breasts. "These peaches have been driving me fucking crazy for the past month. I can't stop thinking about them."

I squeezed one round globe, and she gasped loudly as if the action had surprised her. I paused because it didn't sound pleasurable to me.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" I asked, letting my hand drop.

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